


maybe some faith would do me good

by ganymede_elegy



Series: on the bound [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon - Book, F/M, Petyr Baelish is His Own Warning, Pol!Jon, Post Book 5, i just really wanted to kill littlefinger tbh, spoiler I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ganymede_elegy/pseuds/ganymede_elegy
Summary: Sansa can't imagine he will care much for a marriage alliance, but there are other ways to secure it. Jon seems just as honorable as father had been (and just like father, he will die for it) so she knows that all she has to do is get Jon into her bed and he will marry her so that he does not dishonor her (and just like Robb, he will die for it).The thought sits heavy in her stomach but there's nothing to do for it. If Jon is such a fool, he does not deserve a crown.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: on the bound [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872181
Comments: 82
Kudos: 384





	1. say that it's gonna be alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a part one to this, I'd suggest reading that first, though it's probably not *totally* necessary
> 
> The first part was supposed to be a one shot, but um... I have zero self control, so. Here we go.

Jon Snow is a fool.

Sansa watches in agony as Baelish talks circles around him, winning every conversation they have. Worse, Jon doesn't even seem to _notice_ it's happening.

He seems to have no interest in ruling, in being King. He seems to care only for his sword and he lets his second in command, Ser Davos, handle the negotiations. He spends most of his time in the training yard, laughing with his men and sparring. He treats them like equals and they treat him the same. They don't seem to treat him like a _King_ and she wonders why they named him such. How could her father's bannermen ( _Robb's_ bannermen) pledge themselves to this man who seems to care so little for ruling.

Was it the rumors? The resurrection, the direwolf by his side, the army of wildlings and monsters he allegedly has. Was it simply for the Stark blood running through his veins, even if that blood wasn't from Eddard Stark but Lyanna? If that were the case, the people should name _her_ Queen.

Petyr says as much, whispers it into her ear one night after dinner. He's cornered her in the hall and is pressed up against her and she feels frozen in place as his words slither through her. She should be Queen, Jon Snow is not fit to lead the North.

When he lets her go, she walks through the halls of the Eyrie and lets her fury rage through her veins.

* * *

It's only at night, after she's undressed and gotten under the furs and pulled them above her head, that she allows herself to cry.

She was a fool, herself, to think that Jon Snow was her salvation. That _finally_ she would have someone on her side. She was a fool to let herself _believe._ She was as silly as the maids that whispered about Jon's greatness because she had believed it; for a moment, when she laid eyes on him for the first time and she let herself fall into his arms, she had also let herself fall into the belief of _him_.

She _hates_ him and she hates herself. She hates the little girl that is still with her that believes in happy endings and fairy stories, for that girl has caused her nothing but heartbreak. Jon Snow is no fairy story, he's just a man, and an average one at that. Simple and stupid and obsessed with fighting and food.

When she's finished crying, she pulls the furs down so she can get fresh air and she resigns herself to the plan. It shouldn't be too hard to seduce a man like Jon Snow. She doubts he thinks of her as a sister, like she doesn't think of him as a brother, and she knows that she is beautiful enough. There are rumors that he has a wildling lover with hair like gold, but she hopes the claims of her beauty are just as exaggerated as the claims of Jon's greatness.

He has no head for politics, so she can't imagine he will care much for a marriage alliance, but there are other ways to secure it. Jon seems just as honorable as father had been (and just like father, he will die for it) so she knows that all she has to do is get Jon into her bed and he will marry her so that he does not dishonor her (and just like Robb, he will die for it).

The thought sits heavy in her stomach but there's nothing to do for it. If Jon is such a fool, he does not deserve a crown.

She repeats this to herself like a prayer until she falls asleep.

* * *

She and Jon don't get much alone time, and even the times when they feel alone, she knows they're not (she knows that Baelish's spies are everywhere), and so she keeps the topics light.

The only time she had been able to tell him something without fear of being overheard was in that first moment, when she had been in his arms, and right before they remembered themselves, right before he released her, she had whispered the only truth in his ear that she's been able to say so far.

_Don't be father._

She curses herself, now. At the time, it's all she could think.

Don't be father. Play the game.

She doesn't think Jon knows there is a game at all, let alone know how to play it. His man, Ser Davos, is good, but Petyr is better.

When she and Jon take their walks, she finds she can barely speak for the bitterness that claws at her throat. Jon is polite to her as they walk arm in arm through the gardens that are supposed to act as a godswood.

“There's no heart tree,” Jon points out with a frown when she tells him where they are.

“No,” she says. “Weirwoods won't grow here.”

“I can't imagine they would,” he says and when she looks at him she thinks she sees something in his eyes, a flash of something that he quickly shutters off.

It takes her breath away.

* * *

After that day, she feels off balance but she tries to stick to the plan.

At dinners she turns her attention to Jon, she puts her hand on his arm when she speaks and she smiles and flutters her eyelashes and she laughs at everything he says, though he isn't particularly funny. She cinches her bodices tighter and leans forward as she speaks so that she is on display for him.

Petyr gives her approving looks and she feels her stomach turn.

Jon seems entranced by her and she hates herself, but she reminds herself that this is what needs to be done. She needs Jon to come willingly to her bed so that she can go home, so that she can become Queen and rule her people the way they deserve to be ruled. If this means Jon must die, then so be it.

(It's only at night, under the furs, that she allows herself to cry.)

* * *

Slowly, she notices that Jon has gathered quite the following in the training yard. It's not just his own men that join him to spar, it's the Knights of the Vale, too. Young and old, they come to challenge the White Wolf, as they call him. They joke with him and call him names and Jon laughs with them and spars with them and beats them.

Slowly, she notices some of the Lords join him as well.

The first she sees is Lord Yohn Royce, laughing with Jon about his days fighting in tourneys. Jon admires his bronze armor and Lord Royce preens under the attention.

The next is Lord Horton Redfort, a small man who is too old to fight, but Sansa sees him standing off to the side, watching, and Jon goes to speak with him often.

Lady Anya Waynwood joins and this is what startles Sansa the most. She knows Lady Waynwood is the true power behind the Lords Declarant, the steel in their backbone. She watches Jon smile and charm her and Sansa feels an uneasiness unfurl in her chest.

Jon sees her watching one day and he does not come to her right away, but eventually he works his way over, stopping to chat with any man or woman in the yard, high born or low. There are two men sparring, a Northerner and a Vale Knight, and she tries to keep her eyes on them as Jon comes up next to her.

He doesn't say anything to her at first, but eventually, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leans towards her and murmurs “trust me.”

She finds the air disappears from her lungs and she grabs hold of the ledge in front of her as his words ring in her ears long after he moves on.

_Trust me_.

* * *

There will be a feast for Robert's name day and Sansa spends two hours prior to it calming the little Lord down as he's dressed in his finery. The maids button him into this clothes as he screams and Sansa soothes him.

After he's finally calm, she has to rush back to her own chambers and she does not have as much time to get ready as she'd like. She needs to look her best tonight, Petyr's eyes will be on her and she needs Jon's to be as well.

She needn't have worried about it, though, because as soon as she enters the great hall, it seems that _every_ eye is on her. She knows that her long, unbound hair will shine in the candlelight and the deep blue gown will accent her eyes and the cut is low enough to pull any man's (and some women's) gaze. She has prepared for this, though when she looks at Jon, she isn't quite prepared for _that_.

He watches her as she crosses the room and comes to sit next to him and his gaze almost makes her falter in her steps. He's watching her so intently that she can barely focus on anything else and it's a relief when she's finally sitting down.

“You look lovely, Lady Sansa,” Petyr croons from the opposite side of Robert. She wonders if he's said it because he wants to make sure Jon notices or if it's because he can't help himself.

She knows Petyr wants her. She knows that all his plans end up with him in power (not as the actual King, but as the Hand, the shadow power) and with Sansa by his side and in his bed. She knows this. She knows he does not _love_ her, not truly, he isn't capable of it. But he desires her. He desires to possess her.

She focuses on Jon during the dinner, as is the plan. She flirts and laughs with him but there is a new undercurrent to it. She's been doing this for nearly a moon, since he arrived in the Vale, but tonight it's different.

He looks at her differently, or perhaps she is only just noticing it. There's a look in his eyes that does not speak to stupidity, to foolishness, to noble idiocy. She's enraptured by the way the glint in his eyes disappears when he turns to speak to Baelish, she watches his whole face soften into a look that says he's an open book with no secrets and no games to play. And Petyr... Petyr is so willing to believe it. So willing to believe that Jon is just another Eddard Stark, another Robb (just as she had been, but now she _sees_ ) _._

When she looks around the hall, she can see the other lords and ladies talking and she feels something in her swell when she notices the looks they give Jon compared to the looks they give Petyr.

The time comes for dancing and there's no hesitation when she asks Jon to dance with her. He stands and laughs and says loudly that he is a terrible dancer and all those within earshot laugh and urge him on. They clap when Jon bows to her and holds out his hand and she takes it.

“As long as you promise to keep my toes intact,” she sends the lords and ladies an exaggeratedly fearful look and they all laugh and cheer her and Jon on and it is... it is _masterful_ , she thinks, the way he has won them over, by simply speaking with them and sparring with them and treating them as equals, all while Baelish and Ser Davos play at politics, locked away in Baelish's solar.

He's not nearly as bad of a dancer as he promised he was. His steps are not practiced, but they are agile and quick and she remembers the rumors that he is the best swordsman the land has ever seen.

“You can't trust Baelish,” she says as they fall into a rhythm and he pulls her as close as he can while maintaining a semblance of decency. Out here, this close together with other couples swirling around them, this is as alone as they are going to get.

“I know, you already warned me.”

She frowns for a moment before she realizes that he knew exactly what she meant when she said _don't be father._

“I'm to seduce you,” she blurts out and his eyes snap to her face but she cannot meet them and instead stares over his shoulder. “I'm to seduce you so that you will make me Queen.”

He nods. “I thought it was something like that,” he says, and she thinks she hears something like sadness in his voice.

“I want to go home,” she whispers and his hands tighten on her.

“I will take you home,” his voice is laced with promise and it sends a shiver through her. “You don't need to wed me for that. You are a Stark and you belong in Winterfell. I will take you home.” She can't speak and Jon continues on. “I found Theon at Winterfell. Before I executed him, he told me that it was two farm boys he killed, not Bran and Rickon.” Sansa takes a deep breath and focuses on keeping control of her face, keeping her mask on. “I don't know where they are, I don't know if they're alive, but I know Theon didn't kill them when he said he did.”

She has to swallow against the lump in her throat and take a few deep breaths before she can speak.

“Baelish killed Jon Arryn,” she tells him. This will likely be the only time they can speak and she needs to tell him as much as she can. “He had Lysa poison him, and then when she saw him kiss me, he threw her out the Moon Door and we lied to the Lords that it was a singer named Marillion.” It all comes out in a rush and he keeps his face neutral but she can see the muscles in his jaw working. “And I don't have proof, but I _know_ he helped get father killed. He stole me from King's Landing when they accused me of poisoning Joffrey and posed me as his bastard daughter to hide me from Cersei.”

“That sounds like quite the list of crimes,” Jon finally says.

“He's powerful and he has powerful people in his employ, people who owe him money and favors. He isn't easily disposed of.”

Jon nods and they continue to dance in silence. When the song comes to an end, he leans down close to her ear again.

“Remember to trust me. Baelish will die and I will take you home.”

* * *

That night when she is under the furs, she does not cry.

She finds herself restless and hot, tossing and turning as his words repeat in her memory.

_Bealish will die and I will take you home_.

She pictures it, she pictures Jon taking Petyr's head, of Jon slitting his throat, of Jon shoving a dagger into his heart, and before she realizes it, she's slipping a hand under her shift and between her legs.

* * *

When they walk, they talk about different things now.

She begins to parse through the stories, to find out what is truth and what is fable.

He was Lord Commander. He let the wildlings through the wall and even married Alys Karstark to one of them and his men killed him for it. He rose on his funeral pyre.

He took an army of wildlings and yes, even giants, down to Winterfell, gathering houses still loyal to the Stark name. Word of his resurrection had spread and Howland Reed had found him and confirmed his parentage.

Jon looks sad when he says this, and she stops walking and he follows suit and she turns towards him.

“You're still a Stark,” she says, bringing her hand up to his face and running her fingers along his jaw. “You were still raised by Eddard Stark, no matter who your father was.” He looks unconvinced and she brings her other hand up and holds his face in her hands and makes him look at her. “You are a Stark,” she says fiercely and, without meaning to, adds “you're _mine_.”

Something feral flashes through his eyes and his own hands go to her waist and his fingers tighten around her until she gasps but he doesn't let go. “Aye,” he says, voice rough and Northern and he feels like home, “and you're mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify something that I'm not sure needs clarification: in the first part, Sansa calls him Father/Baelish/Littlefinger and in this part it's Baelish/Petyr. I did this on purpose because I wanted to show that Sansa has gone from being Alayne, to feeling controlled by him, to feeling like his equal and using his name. Again, not sure this is important or if anyone would notice, but still.
> 
> Also, I'm going to try and start using my Tumblr again though it's been a while, so I guess come visit me there? We'll see how good I am at it.
> 
> cellsshapedlikestars.tumblr.com


	2. you're all i need

“ _King_ Snow seems taken with you.”

Baelish is pleased, she can tell (and she wants to rip the smirk off his face and she hates the way he says King Snow).

“Why hasn't he gone to your bed yet, I wonder,” Baelish continues, walking behind her and she feels his hand travel across her back as he goes. She shivers and not in the way she does for Jon but Petyr doesn't know the difference and he steps closer behind her, one hand resting on her hip, the other moving her hair over her shoulder. “Why are you not Queen yet,” he whispers into her ear.

She suppresses the urge to rip herself away from him. Petyr's desire for her and his absolute certainty that no one can outsmart him are his only weaknesses and she must use them to her advantage. She needs to keep him believing she is on his side. However they handle him, Petyr cannot know it is coming. If he gets any hint that she is plotting against him, he will find a way to turn it to his favor.

“I suppose I'm having a little trouble with the idea of bedding my brother,” she says, scrunching up her face like the thought unnerves her (in reality, the idea of Jon in her bed is not abhorrent at all, though it probably should be).

“I understand, but it must be done. And remember, he _isn't_ your brother, just a cousin.” Petyr ghosts his lips along her neck and she keeps herself loose, she doesn't tense up, she does not scream and claw at his eyes like she wants to. “And once he takes your maidenhead, he will make you Queen.”

She knows the game she must play.

“But I don't want to be _his_ Queen,” she murmurs and throws him a look over her shoulder and she watches Petyr nearly lose himself.

He spins her around and grabs her by the chin. “Once you are established as Queen, once he puts an heir in your belly, you won't have to worry about him anymore,” Petyr looks as out of control as she's ever seen him and she can't believe she ever thought him invincible.

“And then I can be yours?” she asks with just the right amount of wide eyes and parted lips. When he kisses her, she knows she's won.

* * *

It turns out there is no need for her to trick Jon into her bed. They seem to both know that a marriage is the best course of action, and Jon has Ser Davos bring it up to Baelish, who agrees.

When the match is announced, there's a celebration.

Robert throws a fit and asks why Sansa cannot marry _him_ and she tries to soothe him the best she can.

She meets more of Jon's men and a large man that she later learns is a _wildling_ tugs on her hair and says “kissed by fire!” and laughs boisterously.

It's a joyful feast and in the middle of it, Lord Hunter asks when the wedding will be.

Jon looks at her and says “why wait?”

* * *

There is no weirwood in the godswood but they marry there anyway with a Septon to appease the Southroners (Jon whispers to her that when they get back to Winterfell, they can do this properly if she wishes). The same Septon had annulled her marriage to Tyrion Lannister just one week prior, as he was instructed.

There's another feast after and though Sansa knows this is going according to plan, she cannot help but be nervous. She wonders what tonight will bring, if Jon will truly bed her or if he will refuse. Their marriage is political, a part of the plan. It connects the North and the Vale through her cousin Robert and Jon will also get the Riverlands through her mother, and most importantly, he will get the Stark name for true and solidify the Northern houses to him.

What _she_ gets out of this, she is unsure. She will get to go home, but Jon had promised her that long before the marriage.

What she gets is _Jon._

* * *

Baelish has gotten up from the high table to speak with Lyn Corbray and this is when Jon leans over to her.

“I have a wedding present for you,” he says into her ear and then he pulls back and lifts a hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and she tries to tell herself that she's just imagining the look in his eyes. She wants to believe that he cares for her, but she's been burned one too many times by hope to truly let herself.

He stands and holds up a hand until the room quiets down and the musicians stop playing. When Sansa looks around, she can see many of the gathered lords and ladies looking expectant.

“Lord Petyr Baelish,” Jon's voice rings in the silence of the great hall. Baelish turns from Ser Lyn and gives an amused smirk and bows to Jon.

“Your Grace,” Petyr says and Sansa can hear the disdain lacing his voice.

“The Vale has pledged itself to me through the marriage of Sansa Stark, your liege lord's cousin,” he says and Sansa knows it is more for the guests in the hall than for Petyr. “These people are now mine to protect and in order to do that, I must rid the Vale of all threats against it and the North.”

Sansa feels a fluttering in her chest and she turns to look at Jon. Standing there, with the whole room in rapt attention, in his furs and wearing his crown, he looks every inch a King. He spares a moment to look at her and his eyes soften before he turns back to Baelish, who is looking around the room.

“Yes,” Baelish says warily and Sansa can see he knows what's happening now and she watches his mind try to plot his way out.

“Petyr Baelish, you stand accused of murder and treason against Houses Arryn and Stark.”

A murmur sweeps through the room, but not as loud as Sansa was expecting and once again she looks at the assembled lords and ladies and she realizes that many of them knew this was coming. Lady Waynwood is sitting back in her chair with a pleased smile on her face, Lord Yohn Royce is scowling at Baelish. Lyn Corbray looks surprised, as does Lord Nestor Royce, but they appear to be in the minority. Petyr also seems to notice this.

“You stand accused of plotting the murder of Jon Arryn by poison and you stand accused of murdering Lysa Arryn by your own hand.”

“Lady Arryn was attacked by the singer,” Petyr says, his voice coming out slightly strained. “Lady Sansa...”

At this, both he and Jon turn to look at her and Sansa feels the eyes of the room. Something like joy blossoms in her chest, but she keeps her face calm and Jon helps her stand.

“Lord Baelish took me from King's Landing when I was just a girl,” she says and the whole room remains silent. “I was falsely accused of poisoning Joffrey Baratheon and Lord Baelish helped me escape.” She watches Baelish's smile return and there's a glint in his eye that says he approves of her speech.

Sansa has played her game so spectacularly that even now, he thinks she is loyal to him.

“When we got to the Vale, I thought I would be safe, but he forced me to dye my hair and called me his bastard daughter to hide me. He sought to take liberties with me and when my aunt saw this, she tried to help me. Lord Baelish pushed her out the Moon Door and forced me to lie about what happened.” She adds a quiver to her voice, “I was afraid for my life, so I lied to you,” she looks around at the assembled lords and ladies. “Before she died, Lysa told me that Lord Baelish had helped to poison Lord Arryn.”

She doesn't say that Lysa was the one to poison Jon Arryn, because Robert is here and he loves his mother and any word against her will cause a fit.

Petyr's face is pure white and Sansa takes a great deal of pleasure in this. He had no idea this was coming and it makes her want to laugh.

“Lord Baelish also told me that once I was wed to King Jon, once I had an heir, he planned to kill the King just as he killed Jon Arryn.”

This part does appear to be new information to the crowd and even Jon looks at her, though she can't meet his eyes. She wonders what he is thinking, if he thinks she was plotting with Petyr. They are standing next to each other and she reaches out her hand and brushes her fingers against his and she's relieved when Jon takes her hand in his.

“What do you have to say to these charges?” Jon asks, turning his attention back towards Baelish.

“Of course I deny them!” Petyr sputters, looking around the room for help.

“Have Lord Baelish taken to the sky cells to await trial,” Jon says and waves to a pair of guards, who come forward and each take one of Baelish's arms.

“Make him fly!” Robert screams as Petyr is lead away. Sansa moves to soothe her cousin, but Robert continues to scream and cry until his face is red and she finally has a servant remove him and take him back to his rooms.

Jon makes a motion for the musicians to start up again and the feast appears to resume as though nothing happened.

* * *

Later in the night, when everything has settled, she leans over to Jon. “I want to see him,” Sansa says lowly, making sure none of the others can hear her.

Jon looks at her levelly and nods and he turns to one of his men and says something Sansa can't hear and then she's being escorted out of the hall and Jon joins her a few minutes later.

They walk silently down to the sky cells and when they reach one guarded by a Northman and a Vale Knight, she knows they're in the right place.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Jon asks and she feels something break open inside her (he doesn't demand and he doesn't question her capability, he simply asks).

She ponders this and then nods, because she wants Jon to know she has no secrets from him. Not anymore. She and Jon are wolves, they are Starks, she should have trusted that from the beginning.

When she enters the cell, Baelish stands up and there's a brief flash of hope at the sight of her, before he sees Jon enter behind her.

“Sansa,” he pleads and he seems to have decided that his best course of action is to get her pity, to twist her heart. “Everything I have done has been _for you_ ,” he says and she can feel Jon stiffen up behind her, but he doesn't say anything.

“For me?” she almost laughs, it bubbles up from deep inside her. “You killed Jon Arryn, you're the reason father went South, you're the reason he's dead. Robb rebelled and now he's dead, my mother is dead. Bran and Rickon, lost. Arya is lost.” She feels herself start to shake, she feels _hysterical_ , until Jon steps up behind her and his arms wrap around her waist and it's only then that she can breathe. She closes her eyes and Jon leans in to brush a kiss against the top of her head and she steadies herself.

“Sansa, I love you,” Petyr tries, his voice a whine and she sees him for what he is.

“But I don't love you,” she says and her voice is even and Jon's hands tighten on her hips for a brief moment. “Just like my mother didn't love you.” Petyr recoils from her and he takes a step back and then seems to remember that he's near the edge of the sky cell with nothing but the pitch black of night behind him and an agonizing drop to the rocks below. “No one loves you. No one cares about you,” she continues and takes a step forward and Jon lets her go. “You murdered the only woman foolish enough to love you. You're nothing. You're less than nothing. No one will care when you die.”

She turns to look at Jon and he gives her a steady look back and she smiles at him. When she turns back to Petyr, she takes another step forward and he opens his mouth to beg but she doesn't give him a chance. She brings both hands up and gives one hard push to his chest and he stumbles back and out of the open cell and the last thing she sees of him is a look of surprise and horror before he falls.

There's silence in the cell and she stares out at the night for a long time as it sinks in that he's gone. He will never touch her again, he'll never kiss her again, he'll never put his hands on her and make her feel ashamed. He'll never twist her mind and make her doubt herself. He'll never get the chance to kill poor Sweetrobin and he won't get the chance to kill Jon. He won't get the chance to kill _anyone._

When she finally turns, Jon is waiting for her. He holds out his hand and when she takes it, he pulls her to him and she doesn't think twice as she stands on her toes and kisses him. He kisses her back, one hand coming to wrap around the back of her neck and it's nothing like Petyr's kisses, it's nothing like Joffrey's kisses, and she revels in it.

When they break apart, Jon leans his forehead against hers and keeps hold of her. She grips at his tunic and whispers “ _mine._ ”

“Aye,” he says. “Yours.”

* * *

When Jon finally knocks on the door for the guard to open, they've composed themselves. The guard looks past them at the empty cell and raises an eyebrow.

“Lord Baelish tripped and fell,” Jon says, moving past the guard and Sansa follows.

“What a shame,” the Vale guard says without inflection and the Northman yawns and stretches.

“Guess that means we're off duty.”

“Yes, you should go rejoin the feast,” Sansa tells them and they both nod and bow to her.

“Your Grace,” the Vale guard says to her and Sansa knows he will never say anything. She knows no one in the Vale will question what happened, because she was right. There is no one alive that truly cared about Petyr Baelish, only his money and his secrets and both of those mean nothing now.

The two guards leave them and Jon turns to her.

“Shall we rejoin the wedding feast?”

She hesitates and shakes her head no.

“This isn't really our wedding,” she says and when he frowns, she smiles. “Our true wedding will be at Winterfell in front of the heart tree.”

“Must I wait until Winterfell for our wedding night?” he asks with a quirk of his lips and she feels like a proper lady should be embarrassed but she can't find it in herself for propriety in this moment.

“No,” she feels bold and she steps up to him. “It doesn't matter. I'm yours. The rest is just ceremony.”

“And I'm yours,” he says back. “Nothing else matters.”

No, nothing else matters. She has Jon and soon they will go back to Winterfell and she has a renewed hope that they will some day find Arya and Bran and Rickon and she will gather what is left of her family around her and never let them go again. And she and Jon will create new family and she allows herself to hope, she dares to dream that they will not make the same mistakes her parents did, that _his_ parents did.

They will be different and they will survive, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading if you've made it this far. I love book canon and hope I did it some justice, though I know this idea has probably been done to death.


End file.
